Ellis Edward Sylvester
A Waif of the Mountains

CHAPTER XXV
INSTINCT OR REASON

As the night wore away without bringing any further evidence of the presence of enemies, the solicitude of Vose Adams was transferred to the two, who, hardly a mile distant, were awaiting with equal anxiety the coming of morning. They and he had agreed upon the plan to be pursued, but now, with the crisis at hand, the guide became apprehensive about the final issue.

Suppose the couple should leave their hiding place to return to the main trail before their pursuers were out of the way? Mutual discovery was certain with the dreadful catastrophe that none dreaded more than he. But it would seem that Lieutenant Russell was too cautious to run the risk of so fatal a mistake. He would reconnoitre the ground and keep out of sight until the coast was clear, but the restless Adams was astir at the first streakings of light in the cañon.

He first visited the animals. It was possible that the stealthy prowler of the night before had done them injury, but, so far as he could ascertain, nothing of the kind had occurred. Except for what he had seen and heard during the darkness, he would not have known that a visitor had been in camp.

It was not fully light when the others rose from their primitive couches. Water was at hand, and after drinking and ablution, the group sat down to their morning meal, which disposed of the last remnant furnished by Vose Adams. While they were eating, he told of the occurrences of the night and was surprised that his companions made light of them. To them it was of less importance than to him.

“So long as they do no more than prowl about the camp,” remarked Captain Dawson, “we need feel no concern.”

“It seems to me,” said Brush, “that if the fellow intended mischief, he would have done it, but he has left no traces of anything of the kind.”

“Which was because the right kind of chance didn’t show itself,” said Vose; “if we don’t have a lively fight before this bus’ness is over, I’m much mistook, but it’s time we was moving.”

The guide seemed to have forgotten his resentment of the night before and his friends were too considerate to refer to it. It took but a short time to make the animals ready, when the procession started up the gorge, Vose, as usual, leading, with the captain next, then Wade Ruggles, while the parson brought up the rear, that position naturally falling to him.

Men and beasts were refreshed by their rest and food, and it required but a brief while to reach the top of the gorge, where, as will be remembered, it terminated. It was here that Vose Adams began his fine work, and he showed no more hesitancy in drawing a “long bow,” than on the previous night, when pretending to account for his long absence.

“The trail leads to the right,” he said, with a glance at the ground, as if to refresh his memory.

His first thrill of misgiving came when he saw the parson pause and look searchingly at the ground. Had he possessed one-half the skill of Vose in trailing, he would have discovered that the guide was misleading them, but he did not have that cleverness nor did any other member of the party. The glance of the parson was perfunctory and his brief pause was to regain his breath after the short but laborious climb of the steep slope. Vose was watching him closely and quickly saw the meaning of his action, for, whatever Brush may have observed on the ground in front of him, it was not the faint impressions left on the stones by the fugitives. Neither the captain nor Ruggles so much as looked at the earth, accepting the dictum of their guide without question.

It was not deemed best to mount the animals, because of the roughness of the ground and the belief that they were close upon the parties for whom they were searching. Vose took care to turn so sharply to the right that they were speedily out of sight of the spot where he had parted from the fugitives. Everything was going promisingly when Wade Ruggles startled his companions by the exclamation:

“Helloa! there’s that dog Timon!”

A hundred yards to the left rose a pile of rocks, the highest of which reached an altitude of two hundred feet or more. Upon the crest of one of the lower rocks, which had only a slight height, the immense dog stood in plain sight. It looked as if he had started to ascend the rocks, when he discovered the party and paused to learn their business.

The picture was a striking one. The enormous size of the brute gave the impression at first that he was a wolf or some wild animal that had challenged the advance of the four men. This error would have been made had not each been so familiar with the creature. As he stood, his formidable head raised, his forequarters being slightly higher than the remainder of his body, his position was diagonal. He was surveying his acquaintances, who surveyed him in turn with equal curiosity.

Vose Adams’s heart sank. What was the meaning of this? As he viewed it, the presence of the dog could have no other significance than that the lieutenant and Nellie Dawson were close at hand. Timon was in their company and would not have strayed far, so that he had betrayed them. From some cause, which the guide could not comprehend, Lieutenant Russell had made a change of plan and placed himself almost in the path along which Vose was leading the pursuers, in the belief that the fugitives were at a safe distance.

The four men looked at the dog for several moments in silence, when the captain spoke:

“We must be very near them.”

“You’re dead right,” added Ruggles in the same undertone; “we’ve got ’em cornered sooner than we expected.”

“They can’t go far,” said the parson, “without being stopped by the rocks, when we shall have them in the nicest trap that was ever set for any game.”

The reflection of Vose Adams was of a different nature.

“If they make fools of themselves and upset all my plans, what can I do to help ’em? Why didn’t they stay where they promised to stay, and why didn’t they kill that blamed dog afore he played this trick on ’em?”

Timon stood for two or three minutes so immovable that he suggested a stone image of himself, carved out of the rock on which he was perched. Then he emitted a single husky bark and leaped lightly down from where he had been standing. It was no more than a dozen feet, and he alighted as gracefully as a panther. He trotted part way to the horsemen, who were closely watching his movements, stopped, barked again and wheeling, trotted forward over precisely the course Vose Adams was taking when checked by the appearance of the canine.

The men looked at one another in astonishment. The action of the dog was unaccountable, but Captain Dawson’s explanation sounded reasonable.

“That shows we are on the right track and he has come to guide us to where they are awaiting him.”

There could be no doubt of it. The actions of the brute said as plainly as so many words: “Come with me and I will take you straight to the people you want to see.”

Instead of following Timon at once, the party kept watch of him. He trotted a dozen steps and then paused and looked back. Observing that he was not understood, he emitted several more barks, took a couple of steps and then repeated the performance. His object was so evident that Captain Dawson said:

“That’s as plain as the nose on your face; the animal is worth a dozen guides like you, Vose.”

“Then why don’t you foller him?” sulkily asked the latter.

“That’s what we shall do; come on.”

Observing that the captain left his horse standing, the parson inquired the reason.

“They are of no use to us and will be only a bother; leave them here until we need them; I will follow the dog and you can take what order you choose, but,” he added with unmistakable earnestness, “every one of you must keep in the background till I’m through.”

Timon held his motionless position until the four men had taken several steps toward him and there could be no error as to their intention. Vose Adams observed that he was following, without a hair’s variation, the course he had in mind.

“It serves ’em right,” was his angry reflection; “when the leftenant spoke ’bout hunting up a new trail through the mountains, I oughter knowed he hain’t no sense and was sure to make a mess of things. Now’s he gone and sneaked off where these folks will stub their toes agin him; I’m ’sprised that the Queen didn’t hammer a little sense into his head.”

The guide was in a torture of apprehension. The impending outcome was likely to betray the deception he had used, but it was not for that he cared. There could be no mistaking the deadly mood of Captain Dawson and the equally intense hatred of Ruggles and Brush. A meeting with Lieutenant Russell made a frightful tragedy inevitable, and no one could be more vividly aware of the fact than the young officer himself, for Vose had impressed it upon him, but the guide in his anguish of spirit, saw no possible escape from it. He stolidly followed, striving to brace himself for what must soon come.

Meanwhile, the strange leadership continued. Timon seemed to be impatient, for occasionally he broke into a trot, abruptly pausing and looking back, as if to urge his followers to use more haste. Since they did not do so, he checked himself, when about to pass beyond sight and waited for them to draw near. He led them around boulders and masses of rocks, over ridges, down declivities, across one small stream, through a ravine and again among the precipitous piles of stone, until even the hardy men were well nigh exhausted. They had traveled fully a mile over a route that was of the most trying nature.

It was about this time that an extraordinary suspicion began forming in the mind of Vose Adams. He hardly dared give credence to it, but it took greater hold upon him with every few rods of advance. Nothing in the world would have induced him to make known his suspicion, but it continued to grow.

Suddenly Captain Dawson stopped. As he looked around his face was agitated.

“Boys,” said he, “there’s something infernally strange about this.”

Vose Adams saw that his own suspicion had entered the mind of their leader, but the countenance of the guide was as blank as that of a child.

“It’s the worst tramp I ever had,” remarked the parson, removing his hat and mopping his forehead.

“If there’s any harder work,” added Ruggles, “count me out.”

Captain Dawson looked angrily at Vose.

“Do you know the meaning of this?”

Vose shook his head and prevaricated still further by adding:

“Nor what you’re driving at either.”

“That dog has misled us; instead of conducting us to the couple he has taken us away from them.”

It was true and every one of the four knew it. The suspicion of the guide had become certainty. Was it instinct or reason that controlled the animal? Who shall draw the line in explaining many of the actions of the brute creation?

Vose Adams was silent a moment and then emitted a low whistle.

“Hang me, if I don’t b’leve you’re right, captain. I’ve been told that that dog knowed more than a good many folks and there ain’t no doubt of it now.”

The disgusted parson exclaimed:

“Why didn’t one of us think of that? The idea of all four being fooled by a dog!”

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if there had been two dogs,” said Ruggles, who saw the grim humor of the thing, “but it is tough to have our eyes shet by only one.”

It was impossible for Vose Adams wholly to restrain all evidence of his pleasure. When in the depths of despair, he was awakened to the fact that the canine had performed one of the most brilliant exploits conceivable. He could not help smiling. The captain was in an ugly mood and in a threatening voice asked:

“Did you have anything to do with this?”

“Certainly; me and Timon fixed up the thing afore he left Dead Man’s Gulch; it took us a good while; the dog didn’t think it would work, but I stuck to it and finally he promised to have a try at it; certainly we fixed it up atween us.”

The guide did a clever thing in thus turning the fantastic belief of the captain into ridicule. Had he protested, he might have added to the suspicion against himself. It was further in his favor that it was known he had never had much to do with Timon. As already related, the brute had few friends among the miners and Vose Adams never sought his acquaintance.

Nevertheless, it was impossible to brush out of sight one significant fact,–the long absence of Adams the day before. But for the last occurrence, nothing would have been thought of the former, but it was clear that Captain Dawson had begun to entertain doubts of the loyalty of his guide.

“He’ll never repeat his trick anyway,” exclaimed the officer, facing about and bringing his rifle to his shoulder. But his intention of shooting Timon was frustrated, for the brute was nowhere in sight. Unreasonable as it might sound, it looked as if he suspected how things would turn out and took the occasion to place himself beyond danger from the indignant men.

“In the army we shoot spies and traitors,” remarked the captain, so angered by his repeated disappointments that he could not govern his feelings. In giving expression to the remark, the officer made a serious mistake, which he saw the moment the words left his lips. He was suspicious of Vose Adams, but he should have concealed all evidence of it, until the proof appeared. When that took place, he would shoot the man with no more hesitation that he would have shot the dog. But he had now put Vose on his guard and the difficulty of detecting him was increased tenfold.

As if to obliterate the memory of his words, the captain said in the most matter of fact tone he could assume:

“The mistake we made has taken us from the right spot; they must have been near the rocks where Timon showed himself.”

“No doubt,” said the parson, “and were watching us.”

“The one thing to do is to retrace our steps; perhaps the two may be fools enough,” bitterly added the captain, “to wait for us, since that seems to be the only way by which we shall ever come up with them.”

A single short bark startled them. The captain wheeled like a flash with his gun at his shoulder. But Timon was too cunning to show himself. It is not improbable that he meant the expression for a note of triumph over his inimitable exploit, while such a wonderful dog was too wise to run any risk of punishment from his indignant victims.

The hunter is sustained against fatigue by the excitement of the chase; and, despite the severe labor of following the canine guide, all four men stood it far better than the return to the spot where the pursuit began. Angered, chagrined and in desperate mood, even the grim leader was forced occasionally to stop and rest. Nearly two hours passed before they descried the familiar pile of rocks in their front.

“That’s the spot,” he said, “but what good can it do us? It’s a wonder if they have not run off with our horses; it would be a fitting climax to this folly.”

It was the secret wish of Adams, from the moment of discovering the cleverness of Timon, that this very thing should be done. If Lieutenant Russell took such a precaution, it could not fail to be effective. Returning to the main trail after his pursuers were out of the way, he would have an open path through the mountains to Sacramento. If the lameness of Nellie’s pony continued, her saddle could be transferred to one of the other horses, and, leading or driving the remainder of the animals, the four men would soon find their task a hopeless one.

But the young officer was restrained from such action by a certain chivalry that governed all his actions. He could not consent to take so unfair an advantage of an enemy, even though the fate of one dearer than his own life was at stake. And yet it must be confessed that the lieutenant drew it very fine. His course did not win the respect of his enemies, who were inclined to attribute it to stupidity, rather than courtesy.

But no time was to be lost in deciding their line of action.

“I think we’d better make a hunt among them rocks,” suggested Wade Ruggles.

The others studied them with as much interest as if it were the first time they had been seen. If the couple had taken refuge among the caverns and crevices of this immense pile of stone, they must have left their animals on the ground below where they could be readily discovered.

“We may as well have a look,” remarked the captain; “what do you think, Vose?”

“I don’t think anything; don’t ask me any questions.”

He never looked more angry. He had not forgotten the slur of the captain and had spirit enough to resent it. Dawson was too proud to apologize and he could not do so, when his suspicion of the fellow’s loyalty was as strong as ever. On the contrary, having made his blunder, the officer drove the arrow home.

“I am sorry you didn’t take that resolution in the first place; it would have been better for all of us, though not so good for those we are looking for.”

The captain and Ruggles now turned to the right, while the other two took the opposite direction. They were thus enabled, after more hard work, practically to pass around the mass of rocks, returning to their starting point, without having discovered any traces of man, woman or their animals. On the journey, Adams and the parson exchanged few words, but it was different with the other couple.

“What do you think of his long absence yesterday?” asked the captain.

“It has a bad look,–worse than I thought when he come back.”

“Why so?”

“I take it with the action of that dog. You didn’t fail to notice that Timon took us along the exact route that Vose was leadin’ us over and we found out that it was the wrong one.”

“And you believe he purposely misled us?”

“It’s almost sartin.”

“Suppose it was certain, Wade?”

“I’d shoot him quicker’n lightning.”

“So would I.”

“But you see we can’t be sartin just yit; if Vose is in that kind of bus’ness, he’ll give himself away purty soon.”

“I agree with you and we’ll watch him.”

Thus was the momentous bargain made.

When the four came together once more, the parson remarked:

“It’s my belief that after we were well out of the way, the two went down the gorge to the main trail and are now making haste to Sacramento.”

The exact line of action that had been agreed upon! Vose Adams was firmly convinced that this was the very thing that had taken place and the utmost he could do was to prevent the horsemen from acting on that theory until the fugitives were given opportunity to pass beyond reach.

Except for the words of Captain Dawson, the guide would have striven to delay the pursuit, but he dared not attempt it after the warning. Ignoring the captain, he said to Felix Brush:

“It’s more’n likely you’re right, parson; that would have been the most nat’ral thing for them to do and it’s no use of our standing here and talking, when every minute counts.”

“We can quickly learn the truth; it isn’t far to the gorge, where they must have left traces; leave the horses here, for we can soon return for them if it proves necessary.”

Forgetting their fatigue, the four walked back over their own trail. The forenoon was well advanced, and, by this time, the fugitives were probably a good way off. Adams was relieved because of this action, for it promised more delay.

Reaching the beginning of the gorge, all began an examination of the ground, for the imprints of the horses’ feet were plainly seen. To the amazement of every one, each hoof pointed upward, that is away from the cañon. There was no evidence that any quadruped had descended the slope. All had gone up. Vose Adams was in despair.

“They have let their only chance go by,” he bitterly reflected; “it’s too late now to save them!”

CHAPTER XXVI
AT BAY

Lieutenant Russell held a long consultation with Nellie Dawson, after the departure of Vose Adams. His first intention had been to press their flight with all possible vigor, and, as will be recalled, Adams carried away that belief with him.

“My view of matters has undergone a change,” he said after a time to his companion, who looked up in his face for an explanation.

“Instead of waiting until we reach Sacramento for a meeting with your father, I believe it will be much better to have it as soon as possible.”

“Why?” she asked, though curious to say, she had been wavering for some time in her belief.

“It will add to rather than lessen his anger, if he is obliged to follow us that far, and the fact that he is in a city instead of the mountains will not decrease his determination to do me injury.”

“What about those who are with him?”

“Your father is the only one to be considered. My proposal is that we wait here till to-morrow morning until they come up; what is your opinion?”

“I believe you are right; let us do so; I don’t think father will cast me off when I go to him.”

The plan was carried out, though the young man felt more misgiving than his companion suspected. He remained on guard a part of the night, sharing the duty with Timon, whose almost human intelligence made him as reliable as a trained scout himself.

Straight to the spot came the pursuers soon after daylight, when the horses were saddled and bridled. Nellie was in a state of feverish expectancy. When she caught sight of her father, leading the others, she joyfully uttered his name and ran toward him with outstretched arms.

“Father, my own father, are you not glad to see your Nellie?”

Still holding his Winchester half-raised, he glanced sternly at her and replied:

“Come no nearer; you are no daughter of mine!”

She stopped as if shot, and with hands still outstretched stood motionless, with her eyes fixed yearningly upon him. She was like a marble statue, without the breath of life in her body. All were silent. Even Timon looked from one to another without moving. The whole thing was beyond his comprehension.

Then the dreadful truth seemed to force itself upon the consciousness of the girl, who staggered backward to the nearest boulder, upon which she sank and covered her face with her hands. She did not weep, for her grief was too deep.

And who shall picture the sorrow that wrenched the heart strings of the parent? There was a strange look on his face and his massive frame trembled. But he quickly recovered his self-poise, and looking away from his child, fixed his eyes upon Lieutenant Russell.

“It is with you that I have to settle.”

“I am ready.”

The young officer was standing beside his pony, with one arm resting on the saddle, across which his rifle was supported, while the other hand lay idly on his hip, and his body was borne upon one foot. His pose was one of negligence, as if he and his animal had taken position before the camera, and the world contained no such thing as hatred and enmity. He looked calmly into the angered countenance, while he waited for the next words of the man who was impatient to send a bullet through his heart.

Wade Ruggles and Felix Brush would have been glad of the privilege of doing this, but they felt that for the time they were out of it. The right of calling Lieutenant Russell to account lay with the father of Nellie. They had nothing to do or say until that tragedy was ended, and they stood apart, silent, grim and watchful of everything.

The coolness of the young man disconcerted the captain for the moment. Feeling it unnecessary to hold his weapon, he lowered the point, but, never once removing his eyes from the face of the other, said:

“I will give you the same chance as myself for your life; though you do not deserve to live, it shall never be said I took any advantage over you. Each of us has a revolver and knows how to use it; you may pace off the distance for yourself, but make it short.”

“Captain, I decline to fight you,” replied Lieutenant Russell, without a change of pose and in his usual voice.

“Why?” demanded the other.

“You have saved my life on the battle field; we have been comrades; we have drank from the same canteen; shoot me if you wish; I will keep the position I now hold and you may stand where you are; you have your Winchester in your hands; you have but to raise it and it will be all over in a twinkling, but nothing that you can say or do will induce me to harm one of your gray hairs.”

This reply was unexpected to all, but it served if possible to intensify the wrath of Captain Dawson. He shook with tempestuous rage, and it was several seconds before he could command his voice. Ruggles, Brush and Adams did not stir or whisper a word to one another. The white-faced Nellie remained seated on the boulder, but she lowered her hands and stared at the two, as if she could not comprehend it all. Once she made a motion to rise, but sank back and stared with a fixidity of gaze that went to the hearts of the three spectators.

“You are a sneaking scoundrel to use those words,” said Captain Dawson, when able to command his voice; “all the past is wiped out except that of the last two days; I shall shoot you for stealing my child from me.”

The lieutenant looked calmly into the countenance of the man, and, lowering his tones almost to a whisper, that was perfectly audible to all, replied:

“I am at your disposal.”

From the moment Captain Dawson learned of the flight of his child, he had been eager for but one thing,–the opportunity to draw bead on the miscreant, without giving him an instant to prepare for death. That opportunity was his but he hesitated. Something that he could not explain, but which incensed him, held his hand motionless.

But perhaps the end would have been the same, when he rallied from the momentary struggle, had not his daughter awakened from the daze that had held her mute and motionless. Like Pocahontas, she sprang forward, with arms again outstretched, and with a faint shriek, flung them about the form of her lover.

“Shoot father, if you will, but you shall kill me too!”

Felix Brush shivered and turning away his head, muttered in a broken voice:

“My God, Wade! I can’t stand this!”

Ruggles attempted to reply, but the words choked in his throat. Still he and Adams kept their eyes upon the three before them. Ruggles was on the point of interfering when Nellie Dawson averted the necessity.

Lieutenant Russell was disconcerted. His lip quivered, and, with infinite tenderness, he sought to loosen the arms that entwined him, but she would not permit it.

“No, no, no! He shall not part us! Let him slay us both! Do not repulse me! I will die with you!”

The situation of Captain Dawson was awful. He was scarcely himself. The dainty form of his child could not fully shield the athletic figure of Lieutenant Russell, strive as much as she might, and the opening for the threatened shot was as clear as ever. Whether he would have persisted in his intention can never be known, for at that juncture the startling incidents were succeeded by one still more startling and unexpected.